Relèvé
by zuckinghams
Summary: Paris, France. 1871. Years before the arrival of Felicie Milliner, five other promising dancers studied at the Palais Garnier. This is their story. (full summary inside)
1. Full Summary

Paris, Fance. 1871.

Within the gilded halls of the Palais Garnier, pink satin clad feet brush against the varnished wood in leaps and turns. Some of the most promising names in the dance industry are studying at the Paris Opera Ballet.

Odette Durand. Louis Mérante. Rosita Mauri. Clara Thomas. Régine Martin.

They had it all - the looks, the talent, and the potential. Madame Lumilda knows success awaits them, and what better way to show off the Paris Opera's future than with a ballet? After all, in wartime, people will be eager for entertainment.

But secrets lurk in the Opera's shadows, and nothing stays the same for long. One night will change it all - forever.


	2. First Position

"First position!"

The class moved their bodies as the ballet master instructed them to do, in time to the music. The pianist sat on the bench, her fingers gracefully navigating the row of back and white keys. Sunlight streamed into the room through the large, circular windows as the dancers continued the guided warm up at the sleek wooden barre.

Dressed in nearly identical white leotards, the gold detailing stitched into the fabric shone as the ballerinas leaped and twirled throughout the grand dome-shaped room. Their pointe shoes brushed the smooth wooden floor, their arms graceful and their toes pointed.

Occasionally, the ballet master would call out instruction to an errant ballerina, but otherwise, the only sound that filled the room was the melodic piano music that came from Madame Martin.

"Class is over," the ballet master said once they were done. "You may go now."

"Thank you, Monsieur," chourused the class, before rushing down the stairs and into one of the many opulent halls of the Paris Opera Ballet.

"Oh, my legs are sore," groaned Régine. "I don't get why he has to work us so hard."

Odette chuckled. "Don't say that, that's just his way. He's only trying to prepare us."

"Yeah," Rosita agreed. "Hard work and perseverance is the only way to make it to the top."

"Bonjour, mesdemoiselles," came a voice from in front of them, and the three girls looked up to see Louis Mérante standing in front of them.

A fellow student at the Paris Opera Ballet, Louis was in the top boys' class. Unlike most of the danseurs in that class, Louis was kind and humble about his talent, whereas the other boys tended to be snobbish and arrogant. Nevertheless, they were all greatly admired throughout the Opera, with their tall physique, good looks, and undeniable skill.

Running his hand through his sleek black hair, he smiled at them. Odette smiled back.

"Bonjour, Louis," chirped Rosita. "How are you doing?"

Rosita and Louis were good friends, and had been for a long time. They started dancing at around the same time, and had been put in the same classes ever since they had started at the Opera.

As Louis, Rosita and Odette began a lively conversation, Régine hung back, a light blush tinting her cheeks. She made it no secret that she liked Louis, but she knew she had no chance with him. Odette and Rosita were always telling her that she had nothing to fear, but Régine knew she did.

For Régine had a secret. She was not here because of her immense skill, and had not been admitted into the Opera the same way the rest of the girls had. She had not auditioned or been interviewed, nor had she received the creme letter embossed with the signature mark of the Opera.

For as long as she could remember, Régine's mother had been playing the piano for the Opera. As a child, she had often sat by her mother's side and watched as the beautiful dancers twirled and leaped around, wishing to be one of them.

So, when she was 7, Régine had begged her mother to pull some strings and let her dance with the other boys and girls. Her mother relented, and soon thereafter, Régine, too, was dressed in a cream-colored leotard and sheer pink tights.

She hadn't told anyone yet, and none of the dancers had made the connection. And if they did, they were courteous enough to keep quiet about it. Most of the dancers came from wealthy and prestigious families, and Régine knew only one other person who didn't - Odette.

"Odette!"

The voice of Madame Lumilda, one of the ballet mistresses, pulled Régine from her thoughts. Rosita and Louis stopped as well. Odette hurried into the room where the call had come from, waving goodbye to her friends.


	3. Second Position

"Odette!"

Madame Lumilda's voice came from one of the large studios nearby, and Odette hurried inside, waving at her friends quickly before entering.

The formidable Russian ballet mistress stood in the center of the circular room. She was willowy and dressed in a purple leotard, her light hair pulled back into a bun. She had traveled to Paris a few years ago, but was already making her influence even bigger than it had been in Russia. She had been offered a post at the Opera, which she accepted.

"Odette, summer is coming," said the madame, staring at her student with steely gray eyes. "We will be performing a ballet to celebrate the seasons. As a corphyee, you have been chosen to audition for one of the four lead roles."

She turned and walked to the window. "Come, petit danseuse, tell me what you see."

Odette also crossed the room and stared out the window.

Paris was beautiful as the sun began it's descent. The tall buildings were opulent, and greenery bordered the roads. Men and women dressed in pastel went about their day as cars rolled down the street.

"Well?"

Odette looked up to meet the eyes of the prime ballerina. "I see potential."

She got a smile in response. "Good, good. Now, I must ask you a very important question. One that might impact the future of your ballet career."

Odette took a deep breath and nodded.

She was nervous about whatever it was that Madame Lumilda had to ask her. As one of the dancers here who did not have wealthy parents, Odette was well aware of the fact that her position at the Opera was in almost constant danger. Someone could come along and decide that they wanted to be a ballet dancer, and their wealthy parents could pay the Paris Opera Ballet to accept their child. That meant that someone else would have to go.

Her father was a simple carpenter, and her mother worked at a dress shop. They made enough money to support their family, but not enough to secure Odette's spot at a Corps de Ballet at the Opera.

"Odette, why do you dance?"

She smiled. The question was an easy one, and she could breathe again. Madame Lumilda kept her steely gaze on Odette as the young ballerina answered.

"When I dance, I can be myself. Ballet lets me express myself in a way that words cannot. It lets me show people, and share with them, the happiness and joy that being a ballerina brings to me."

The mentor's eyes softened as she took in her words.

"Very well, then. Go stand at the barre, please, mademoiselle. We shall begin our lesson today with a review of the five positions."


	4. Plie

"This summer, the Paris Opera will be performing a ballet for the annual Summer Showcase. The top boys and girls classes will be combined, and four leads will be chosen to dance in a new ballet called Danse des Soeurs, choreographed by me."

The coryphée class listened attentively to Madame Lumilda as she paced the stage.

"In such times as these, we must continue to provide the public, and ourselves, a way to escape from the war on our doorstep, if only for a few hours. You are all expected to be here at 8 a.m. sharp tomorrow morning. Auditions will take place in class, and each day two people, un danseur et une danseuse, will be eliminated. For the purpose of these auditions, our classes will be combined. The last ones remaining will get the part of the leads. The rest of you will dance as the ensemble. Good luck, and good day. Class dismissed."

"Merci, Madame," the coryphées chorused as they got up and streamed out the doors in a wave of pale pink tights and white leotards.

"Danse des Soeurs," breathed Régine as they walked out. She did a little pirouette."Can you believe it? Oh, wouldn't it be great..." She trailed off as Louis approached.

"Have you heard the news?" He asked excitedly.

"The ballet? We just found out," Odette told him, gesturing down the hall. Louis nodded.

"Who do you think will get the parts?" Rosita mused as they walked down the hall.

"Well, you'll probably get the lead, Rosita," Odette began, avoiding a collision with a dancemate.

"Oh, no," Rosita countered. "Not me. You, perhaps, or Clara Thomas, but not me."

"Why not?" Louis asked defensively. "You're certainly good enough."

"Your talent is undeniable, though Clara might offer you competition," Odette added.

"That's true," Louis agreed.

"You'll probably get the male lead, Louis," Rosita said.

Louis scoffed."Not me," he said, "one of the other boys, maybe, oh, I don't know..."

"Yeah, right, like you couldn't beat them," Rosita rolled her eyes. "You've already got the part, and auditions haven't even started."

"So, Louis, Rosita, and Clara will get the leads," Odette listed.

"You might be a lead," Rosita told her.

Louis nodded. "You're good, Odette."

Odette smiled sadly. "Thanks, but I'm not sure I'll be around long enough for that."

"What do you mean?" the others asked, alarmed.

"Well," Odette began, "The Summer Showcase is a big deal. Someone could come in and decide to participate in auditions, and take my spot. If someone needs to go, I'm going to be one of the first people to be dismissed." She shrugged. "I guess that's just what happens when one gets admitted by scholarship."

"Don't talk like that," Louis said, scowling slightly.

"You're too good to be kicked out," Rosita shook her head.

"Thanks," Odette shrugged, doubtful.

"Oh, I better go," Louis said, "My next class starts in a bit. I'll see you girls later!" He hurried off, waving over his shoulder.

Régine sighed dreamily, watching as he rounded to corner and disappeared from view.

"What do you think, Régine?" Rosita asked kindly.

"What?" Régine turned, startled out of her daydream.

"Who do you think will get what part?" Odette asked.

"Oh, that's easy." Régine smiled. "Louis and I will get the leads, and you two will be my backup."

The other two girls shared a smile. "Of course," Rosita said. "Naturally," Odette added.

Then they all looked at each other, and burst into laughter the way only close friends could.


	5. Auditions

"You must be depressed, for you have the lightness of an elephant. Dismissed."

"Too much energy. You would be good as a speeding bullet. Dismissed."

"Your future is bright - I'll see you on a street corner, selling newspapers. Dismissed."

"You would do well on a menu, because that was an order of catastrophe wrapped in disaster drizzled with atrocious and a side order of bad. Dismissed."

"Perhaps you should introduce your two feet first, before trying to make them get along. Dismissed."

"Dismissed."

"Dismissed."

"Dismissed."

Over the course of the next few weeks, the coryphées danced in Madame Lumilda's auditions for the upcoming ballet. Each day, two dancers left the class. Eventually, they came to fear the D-word - dismissed.

"Thank you, dancers." Madame Lumilda passed in front of the six remaining dancers.

Clara, Rosita, Louis, Odette, Régine, and a young boy named Alan stood in a line, side by side, as the Madame passed in front of them. They waited for the verdict as Madame Lumilda passed Clara, Rosita and Louis...before stopping in front of Odette.

Everyone collectively stopped breathing.

"Mademoiselle," she began. "You have shown great promise, but unfortunately, promises can be broken. Dismissed."

Odette looked up, expecting to find Madame Lumilda's piercing eyes staring down at her in disapproval. However, she found that they were focused on the girl standing next to her.

Régine was looking at Odette sympathetically, also thinking it was she who was to be dismissed. But she was startled out of it when Madame Lumilda stomped her foot.

"Madame Martin, you are dismissed. The door is that way."

Everyone stared as Régine slowly made her way to the door. She looked back before she turned the knob, as if expecting the Madame to laugh and say it was not her who was dismissed, but she was only shooed away by an old hand heavy with rings.

"Alan, they say emotion makes a dancer, and you seem to have only technique. Dismissed."

"Merci, Madame," he said, and bowed before departing.

"Congratulations, the four of you. Tomorrow, one of you ladies will be dismissed. However, Louis, you will dance the male lead. Thank you."

"Merci, Madame," they chorused, bowing and curtsying to her before heading down the steps.

Reginé was waiting for them in the hall, in tears. The group engulfed her, save Clara, who ran off somewhere.

"It's alright, Reginé," Rosita consoled, steering her towards the window ledge, "there's always next time."

Odette patted her shoulder,"You did really good."

"But not good enough," Reginé sobbed. "I wasn't good enough."

And as rain began falling on the streets of Paris, three friends sat in a window, wet drops rolling down both window panes and cheeks.


	6. Third Position

Dusk was falling as Odette made her way out of the Opera and into the streets of the great city.

Her leotard and tights were gone, replaced by a simple navy dress made out of cotton and brown boots. Odette drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she scurried down the streets.

The Durand family lived in an apartment on the second floor of a small flat on Rue d'Étoile. Odette skipped up the steps leading to the small landing in front of the dull red door.

Past it was a large living area, with a sofa and two armchairs. Then a dining table with four chairs, with a fireplace leading into the kitchen. A corridor with two doors leading into other rooms could be seen across from the doorway.

"Home, darling? So soon?" Madame Durand stood at the sink, peeling carrots as the fading sunlight illuminated her face.

"It's near dinnertime, Mama," Odette smiled as she walked over to greet her mother.

As Madame Durand prepared dinner, Odette went out to the back of the building, where there was a large, empty expanse of cobblestone.

This was where Odette practised her dancing in her free time. In her slightly worn leather boots, she jumped and leaped with pointed feet. The other tenants liked to watch her. "Look," they'd whisper to their families, "Look, the little dancer is at it again."

Soon, Madame Durand called Odette inside. Monsieur Durand arrived, and changed out of his work shirt. They sat down to their evening meal of a baguette and bowls of beef stew as the sun went to sleep and the streetlamps were lit.

For the Durands, the table was a place to gather and share the details of their day. Madame Durand would tell tales of the curious personalities she encountered at the dress shop where she worked, and her plans for a new design she wanted to try out based off of something she had seen on the street. Monsieur Durand regaled them with stories and descriptions of the strange and fantastical things he was asked to make for his customers, at his carpentry business. And Odette told them about ballet and her friends at the Opera.

On this night in particular, Madame Durand had been asked to make a purple, grape colored dress robe trimmed in gold - how a garish, pee colored fabric came across as "gold," she was not quite sure, she said with a laugh. Monsieur Durand had been asked to make a carving of a bear head the size of a carriage, and also a three legged rectangular table. When he informed the customer that such a thing would be very impractical, the customer had scoffed at the thought and added a three legged chair to his order before walking out.

Odette, of course, told them about the auditions for the upcoming ballet.

"Oh, how wonderful," her mother said, looking very pleased. "Indeed," her father said, and they both smiled at her. They were proud of her for making her own way in the world of dance, without anyone having to pay lots of euros to secure her position. They were confident that she could make it on talent alone.

But now the conversation took a different turn.

"You remember Robert Milliner, don't you," asked her mother, though it sounded more like a statement. Odette nodded, the Milliners lived just a few blocks away. Robert was their young son.

"Well, word on the streets is that Clara Thomas ran away to elope with him and her parents disowned her. The Milliners are distraught; there is no sign of Robert anywhere," her father said.

"Sacré bleu, how terrible," Odette said, her eyes wide. To think Clara would do such a thing...

"Indeed. I wouldn't be too surprised if you don't see her in class tomorrow."

"Bedtime," Madame Durand announced, rising abruptly from her chair. The family left the topic behind as they prepared for bed and retreated to their rooms.


	7. Fourth Position

"Louis Mérante will dance as the Prince. Clara Thomas will dance as Sylvie. Rosita Mauri will dance as Emilie. And Odette Durand will dance as Estelle."

The company was silent as the dancers whose names were called walked up onto the stage to stand next to each other. When all four dancers had been called, Madame Lumilda looked up from the paper, only to see that Clara was not onstage.

"Clara? Clara Thomas?"

There was no reply. The rest of the coryphee class sat, motionless, in the red velvet seats.

"Does anyone know where Clara is?"

No one said a word.

"Alright, then Régine will dance as Sylvie," Madame Lumilda said, a slight frown marring her features as she made a note on her paper. Régine scurried up to join them, a large smile lighting up her face.

Once all four dancers were standing on the stage, Madame Lumilda continued. "The rest of you corphyees will be the entourage - townsfolk, nobles and the like. You are all dismissed."

"I don't get it," Rosita remarked as they made their way off the stage and towards the doors. "Where is Clara?"

Clara Thomas was also a member of the top girls' class. Her parents were wealthy elites, like Rosita's, and she was passionate about her dancing. Her fiery red hair and bright green eyes seemed to be a visual representation of this. She was quiet, but would sometimes join Rosita and Odette when they were talking during a break.

"Oh, well," Régine said. "She wasn't here. She broke the rules, and didn't get the part." She raised her chin defiantly, as if daring Rosita to say otherwise.

"Yes," Rosita said. "That's true."

"What's going on?" Louis asked as he caught up to them.

"Clara," Rosita told him.

Louis frowned. "She never misses a day, and it's not like her to miss something as important as this...wait, where's Odette?" The girls looked at each other, then back at Louis. They shrugged.

Louis turned back and approached the double doors leading to the theatre. He could hear the faint strains of music coming from the other side.

The doors were slightly open, and Louis carefully opened them a little further before slipping inside. He quickly darted into the nearest balcony and crawled up to the railing on his stomach. Then he slowly peeked over the edge.

Madame Lumilda was sitting in the third row of seats, watching as Odette danced onstage. Madame Martin sat at the piano as Odette performed. From the way she danced, it was clear she knew it well - what to do, when to do it and how to express the meaning.

Louis watched until she stopped, unable to turn away. Odette turning to the Madame, who rose and applauded her student. "Brava," she said, before turning quickly to leave. "Dismissed."

As she left, Louis saw her wipe at her eyes.


	8. Fifth Position

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p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #222222;" data-p-id="8710a9cb06a524a0d87f1dd6449eb0fc"Louis reached into his pocket and a bundle of cash landed on the counter between them./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #222222;" data-p-id="78195e5a988d6a808bc14a34b3ccfc02""Consider it done," the man said as he pocketed it, turning away./p 


	9. Sauté

"Five, six, seven, eight."

The pianist began the opening number as the curtains rose to reveal an empty theater.

Opening night was a week away, and the pressure was on. Madame Lumilda was the sole spectator as the ensemble filed out from the wings, dressed as townsfolk and nobles. They danced around together before splitting into two groups, and they all fell away until only four people were left.

As the ballet progressed, Madame Lumilda sighed softly to herself as she watched her dancers. They were all good, that was not to be denied - perfect arms, pointed feet, not a lock of hair out of place.

But the emotion. Odette, Louis and Rosita conveyed the story with their faces - with the simplest twitches, they showed pain, happiness, fear, freedom. But Reginé's remained a stone mask.

As the music ended and the dancers filed off, Madame Lumilda stood and applauded. "Wonderful performance as always," she called as she made her way to the edge of the stage. "Reginé, could I speak with you for a moment, please?"

"You'll have to excuse her, Madame," the pianist said, standing at Lumilda's shoulder, "We've just received word of her grandfather's death. They were very close."

"Yes, Madame?" Reginé glared at her mother - she didn't like to acknowledge the fact that they knew each other, or were related in any way. The pianist slunk away from her cold glare.

"I understand your recent loss, but Reginé, please, show some emotion. Sylvie is a passionate character - we should see her love for the Prince, her jealousy of her sister, her pain from her parents' neglect. If you don't, I'll be forced to give the role to someone else."

Reginé nodded. "Yes, Madame."

"Good." Madame Lumilda offered her student a smile before calling out to the rest of the group. "Could I have the nobles to run the dance sequence again?"

Reginé frowned as she stormed backstage, kicking a prop on her way. "Blind old bat," she muttered, "I've got tons of emotion." Her eyes fell on Odette and Rosita, who were laughing quietly in the corner. Reginé was about to smile and wave at them, but she didn't want to feel happy. This anger felt . . . good.

_Odette doesn't know how good she has it,_ Reginé thought. _She's a scholarship dancer, too. Why isn't she feeling this bad? She should feel bad too. She's not so unlike me._ She nodded thoughtfully. _If only Odette didn't dance here . . . my life would be so much better. _I'd _be Rosita's best friend. _I'd _be the one always talking with Louis. _I'd_ be the better dancer. Her life should be _mine_._

Some part of Reginé - some deep part, some part of her that she shoved down - was appalled by her thoughts. _Odette is your friend, she's been nothing but supportive!_

_No,_ the stronger part of her argued, _she's competition. In the dance world, there can only be one dancer on top. It's going to be me. She needs to be taught a lesson._


	10. Feu

"Fire!"

The yell came from backstage. Dancers came racing out from behind the wings as flames spread, illuminating the rafters.

"Get out," Madame Lumila yelled as her students raced down the aisles, "run! Someone fetch the fire department!"

Louis and Odette stood onstage as people raced by them.

"What's going on?" Louis asked someone, but they ran by without an answer.

"Fire," another yelled, "run!"

Odette could only stand and watch as the flames grew. The air thickened with heat. She screamed as a beam fell in front of her, lighting the stage on fire.

"Jump," Louis called to her from the other side of the wall of flames.

"I can't," she called back.

"On three," he said. "One . . ."

She took a breath, coughing when she inhaled smoke.

". . . two . . ."

Odette raced towards the edge of the stage.

". . . three!"

They launched themselves into the air, Louis stretching his legs out into a split at the height of the leap. He landed on his feet, turning to smile at Odette.

But she had flown off the stage and now lay in a heap on the floor.

"Odette!"

The rest was all a senseless blur. Somehow, he had made it here, to the hospital. Odette was in one of the rooms, and he was sitting against the wall across from the door. Rain beat against the windows outside as people wailed within.

A couple who Louis assumed were her parents stepped out. The moment they were out of sight, the woman collapsed into the man, who barely caught her.

"She can never walk again," she cried, "our poor darling. Can never dance . . ."

The man held her, stroking her hair. "She's alive, and that's all that matters," he said.

Louis rose and walked away, leaving the two of them alone. This is all my fault. I told her to jump . . . He moved out the doors feeling like someone had punched him.

Meanwhile, upstairs, a doctor and two nurses were gathered around Odette.

"What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

"Where does it hurt?"

"How did you fall?"

"Do you know who the king is?"

They asked so many questions that eventually, she pretended to fall asleep just to avoid them. She decided then that she didn't like questions anymore - these people had asked enough to last her many lives. She shut her eyes and tried to disappear into the sheets.

They finally decided she had some minor burns and a permanent hip injury. They didn't mention it, but Odette knew more than enough to diagnose the third injury. _A shattered career and no chance of dancing ever again._

Needless to say, the ballet was cancelled.


	11. Maître de Ballet

**Paris Opera, 1881**

Louis thumped his staff against the wooden floor. "Five, six, seven, eight."

Twelve years had passed since that fateful night, and since then, Louis had replaced Madame Lumilda as the top ballet teacher at the Paris Opera Ballet. Under his tutelage, many a student had gone on to achieve great things. He taught the best of the best, and made them even better. People had learned to fear and respect him.

"Class dismissed," he boomed, and his students thanked him and scurried out the door.

Louis strode to the window as the door closed, swinging his cane behind his back. Paris seemed to glow in the summer sunlight as people swarmed the streets.

The door opened and he whirled around, ready to unsheath the sword that was always by his side. But it was only the cleaner.

A cleaner who, upon closer inspection, looked very familiar.

"Odette?"

She didn't look up, only froze from her work.

"Odette, it's you?" He took a few hesitant steps closer. They hadn't seen each other in years - not since that fateful night. She'd pretty much disappeared without a trace, and now, here she was.

Except, it wasn't her, Louis realized as she remained frozen. He was right in front of her now, yet her eyes remained on the floor. "Od . . . Odette?"

She took a breath, knuckles white from her tight grip on the broom. "If you could leave, please, monsieur. I'm sure we both have work to get to." Even her voice had changed.

"What's wrong with you? Talk to me!" Louis frowned, wanting to hit something. He lowered his voice when she flinched back from the volume, "talk to me, Odette."

"I'm nobody," she said. "You have important business to - "

"My business is right in front of me," Louis replied, "now tell me where you've been all this time?"

She didn't answer.

"Odette, please," Louis said.

"Leave." It was so soft he could barely hear it.

"Odette."

She limped over to the door and slipped away as Louis sank to the ground. What had he done?


	12. Prima Ballerina

"Rosita?"

Rosita Mauri whirled around to find Odette staring at her, broom in hand. "Odette, hello."

"Hello, Rosita." Odette hesitated, not meeting her eyes. "What are you doing here so late?"

"Rehearsing." The lie rolled off her tongue as if she'd said it a million times - and she had.

"Oh. I didn't realize we were doing Swan Lake," Odette said, leaning on the broom slightly. Her gaze was focused on Rosita's feet - or rather, her pointe shoes. The red ones, the ones all performers wore during every performance. The ones Odette would never get to wear.

"Yes," Rosita said. They actually weren't - another lie. Something she seemed to be doing to someone who had been able to tell right away, once.

"Alright." Odette hesitated, then turned away, believing it. "Goodbye, then."

"Goodbye," Rosita said.

If someone had asked Rosita Mauri why she danced ten years ago, she would have said that she danced to set fire to the world. But had someone asked her that same question now, she would have said something entirely different.

Now, Rosita Mauri danced for those who could not. She danced for chances lost, hopes crushed, dreams blown away by the wind. Burned by a fire too bright.

She danced, most of all, for a friend she had lost on that fateful night. She danced in the hopes of bringing that person back. Rosita would dance in her stead for as long as she was needed, but if the Odette Rosita once knew were to return again, she would step aside for her in a heartbeat.

But as she watched the slim figure limp out the door, she knew that the chances she would return were even slimmer. What was that woman doing to her best friend?


	13. Little Redhead

**Paris Opera, 1883**

"You traitor!"

Regine was beyond furious, it was clear to see. She looked like she wanted to rip Odette's throat out. "You knew this," she cried, advancing towards the woman. "You stabbed me in the back!

"You're sacked!"

Louis could stand it no more. "Silence!" He banged his staff against the floor.

"Alright, like it or lump it, here is my deal." This is a bad idea, he told himself. But I shall proceed nevertheless, himself said back. "Miss Le Haut, you may enter the coryphée class starting tomorrow. And you will also be in the auditions for the part in The Nutcracker. But I want to be clear, if you sack Madame Odette, I will sack Camille.

"You!" He turned to Felicie, " you made a terrible start to the classes, and you have lied and cheated to be here. But you have also shown great promise, and you've worked hard and shown your dedication.

"You must have a good teacher," he said to the small girl in front of him. His eyes flickered to Odette's, then down to her hip, for a brief moment. Guilt overcame him as he turned back to her protegee.

" So you may also stay in the auditions. If you get the part in 'The Nutcracker' fair and square, you may become a coryphée too. If you fail to get the part, then you must leave the Opera. Is that clear?"

"Yes,"Felicie nodded.

"Is that also clear to you, madame?"

"Clear," hissed Regine.

"Then, Felicie Lebras from Brittany, your future at the Opera is in your hands." Louis passed Odette as he made his way to the door, catching Odette's eyes with his own for a quick second. In her ocean-blue eyes, he saw immense pain and sorrow, but there was something else. Something he had not seen there for a very long time. In her eyes, he saw hope.

Rosita hurried after him, beaming widely. "Thank you, Louis," she said, hugging him.

He shook his head, "We both know it wasn't me."

And they turned to stare at the closed door. No, it wasn't either of them. It had been that small little redhead who looked, if they remembered correctly, just like their friend Clara.


End file.
